Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels

  He wondered, as he reached down and fingered the bracelet with tentative fingers, what Ellie’s reaction would be if he used this on her. If she was already against the idea of being his archess, then trapping her powers within her body probably wouldn’t warm her to him any.

  But like Max said—it was a plan B. And Samael did pose a threat.

  “Right,” he said softly. Then he lifted the bracelet and placed it in the front pocket of his jeans. If the way Ellie had stood up to him in the bookstore was any indication, his archess was almost as likely to slap this on his wrist as he was to get it on hers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  At around ten o’clock, Eleanore finished showering and eating and sat down at her desk. She logged on to her computer and signed on to her IM server. Then she waited for Angel to log on to the chat box on her end; when she saw her initials, she began typing.

  E: You wouldn’t believe who’s here right now, signing autographs in my store.

  A: Okay—autographs? I’m officially on the edge of my seat!

  E: Christopher Daniels.

  There was a long pause while, on the other end of the connection, Angel obviously processed the news.

  A: You’re shitting me.

  E: lol Nope. I’ve been off work for two hours, but Mister Jonathan Brakes is probably still there, wondering which of his adoring fans he can sink his teeth into for dinner. Or would it be breakfast?

  A: I have never been more jealous of you than I am right now.

  E: I thought you hated that movie.

  A: Oh, I do. With a passion. Am I the only one creeped out by the thought of someone several hundred years old going after someone who’s barely twenty??? Talk about robbing the cradle. But Christopher Daniels is freaking HOT. Did you get to talk to him at all? Get his autograph?

  Eleanore gazed down at the screen and smiled a wry smile. She’d more than spoken to him.

  E: You know how I am. I wasn’t really interested in an autograph.

  A: You’re kidding me! You WORK there, for crying out loud! You could have at least shown him where he was supposed to park his mega-fine ass!

  E: I did do that. Sort of.

  A: Oh? Explain.

  Eleanore hesitated.

  A: Now!

  She laughed at the screen and shook her head. There was no way she could tell Angel exactly what happened, of course. Not with the storm and the little girl and all that. After six years of communicating electronically, she felt she knew Angel better than she knew herself, and she was closer to her than she’d ever been to anyone in her life. They were best friends, of a sort, though they had never met nor had so much as a phone conversation. They both hated talking on phones and had sworn it off right at the start. They’d met in a chat room for a vampire romance novel and hit it off.

  There were days when Eleanore was certain that she could tell Angel anything. She seemed to empathize with everything that went on in her life—except for the magical power thing, which Angel didn’t know about because Ellie had kept it hidden all these years. If Ellie told Angel the truth, then Angel would be just as burdened with keeping her secret as she was.

  Eleanore continued to stare at the screen, biting her lip as she did so.

  A: You there?

  E: Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Just thinking.

  A: About Daniels?

  E: Sort of, but not really. More of a general spacing out, I guess.

  A: That’s my Ellie.

  E: What’s it like in the North Pole right now?

  Angel lived in Minnesota and as far as Eleanore was concerned, it had to be one of the coldest places in the world.

  A: Cold. White. Caught the change of subject, btw. Nice try. I still want all of the juicy details about vampire boy.

  E: Okay. Fine. The truth? He asked me out on a date.

  It took a minute for the reply to come back this time.

  A: He what?

  E: He asked me out. To some sort of event on Thursday. But I turned him down.

  A: He what?

  E: Very funny. You heard me the first time.

  A: He what what?

  Eleanore laughed.

  A: Okay, now I know you’ve gone around the bend. I can’t freaking believe Christopher Daniels asked you out. I really can’t. And you turned him down. I’m leaving the computer now to go and scream into my pillow. My eyes are turning green.

  The chat box grayed out and Ellie smiled, shaking her head once more. She closed down her e-mail program and pushed away from the desk. It was time for bed. And she had a strange feeling her dreams would be interesting. At the very least.

  When Eleanore put the coffeepot in the fridge and the carton of soy milk on the coffeemaker the next morning, she finally had to admit to herself that she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. It was Sunday and it was a good thing she didn’t have to go in to work that day, because her dreams had been plagued all night with images and flashes and impressions of Christopher Daniels. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of the actor. It was just the first time the dreams had been so vivid that she’d had to kick off all of her covers in order to breathe.

  She shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose where she felt a headache coming on, and tried again. Soy milk in the fridge, coffeepot on the coffeemaker. Flip the switch.

  Nothing happened.

  “No, no, no, not now.” She bent and eyed the electrical outlet to make sure it was plugged in. It was. The coffeemaker was old; it had been in its death throes of late so she’d taken to heading to Starbucks for her caffeine fix. She just really didn’t feel like getting out of her pj’s at the moment.

  She tried the switch again, and again nothing happened. “Come on, girl. Don’t die on me yet. Please—just one more pot. Just this morning, come on.” She tried coaxing the coffeemaker as she flipped the switch a few more times, but it was unresponsive.

  Ellie sighed and let her chin drop to her chest.

  There was a knock at the door. Her head snapped back up and the alertness she’d been trying for all morning slammed into her. No one ever knocked at her door, and certainly not this early in the morning. She stood motionless in front of the coffeemaker, listening intently. There was no sound beyond the door; no voices to give the visitor’s identity away.

  Ellie knew she was being cowardly, but she couldn’t help it. She knew that if she stayed still long enough, whoever was there might go away.

  The knock came again, this time a bit more persistent and solid.

  Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, swore under her breath, and headed toward the front door. Whoever had come to call better not be offended by the fact that she was in her pj’s. Not that they had any right to be offended, paying her a visit this early and without warning.

  Ellie slid the peephole cover back and peered through.

  Christopher Daniels stood on the other side of the door, a large paper cup of coffee in each of his hands. He was standing in profile, his gaze trained on something in the distance, but after a few seconds, he straightened and turned toward the peephole.

  He smiled and mouthed “Good morning” as if he could see her.

  Ellie’s world tilted a little.

  Oh my God, she thought.

  There was no way Christopher Daniels was on the other side of her door. It was unbelievable enough that the famous actor had managed to find her home. That he had cared to look for it in the first place was even more surprising. Unless . . . Was it possible the interest in her he’d shown at the bookstore was genuine?

  Questions spun in her head. She thought of the way he’d mentioned the storm and how Jennifer had slipped on her secret. Either he was being sincere about his interest in her—or he wanted to get close to her because of her powers. The only reason he could have for wanting to do that would be so that he could turn her over to someone else—someone with the intent of abducting her and using her abilities for their own gain. Someone who had been chasing her across the country since she was fifteen.


  She had to admit that the scenario seemed more than unlikely. Daniels was rich and famous and had no reason to be working for some covert operation. But she couldn’t get a handle on him. He’d really thrown her for a loop.

  “Coffee’s getting cold,” he said from the other side, his voice coming through clearly.

  Eleanore ran a hand through her hair, fisted it there, turned in place as if she were going to walk away, and then faced the door once more. She was the embodiment of indecision.

  “I know I’m a good actor,” Daniels said, “but I’m really not a vampire. I promise if you let me in I won’t bite.”

  Ellie blew out a sigh, rolled her eyes dramatically, and then unbolted the door. She popped it open and glared at him. Her glare faltered, though, at the sight of him unhindered by the glass of the peephole. He was so tall. His long-sleeved thermal shirt was pushed up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms. It drew tight across his broad chest as if painted over the expanse of hard muscle there.

  A small gold band of a bracelet was wrapped around his left wrist; it bore intricate designs and seemed to fit him perfectly. Distractedly, she wondered how he’d gotten it on. His jeans were just as form-fitting as his shirt and called far too much attention to the long, lean power encased there.

  His dark brown hair was slightly damp from the cold November morning and curled against his forehead in thick waves that begged to be touched. She caught a whiff of him, like soap and cologne, and felt herself instantly flush. The scent of coffee came next, erasing what was left of her scowl.

  Suddenly she felt ridiculous standing there in front of the famous Christopher Daniels in nothing but pj’s and a nasty expression. Her gaze slipped from his impossibly green eyes to the coffee in his hands. Curls of steam rose lazily from the sip holes, beckoning her. She suppressed a moan and turned a slightly apologetic look on the actor.

  “Okay,” she said with a small shrug and a smile, “which one’s mine?”

  “This one,” he said, holding one of the cups out to her.

  Eleanore took it and her fingers brushed against his as she did. Sparks of energy thrummed through her fingertips, into her arms, and then raced across her chest. It was far more intense than it should have been and Ellie froze in place at the contact. Neither of them said anything; finally, she cleared her throat and turned the cup around in her hands. “How did you know what I like?”

  “I saw your drink on the desk at the bookstore,” he said softly. His voice sounded tighter than it had a moment ago. His green gaze had darkened and his attention had focused on her like a pinpointed laser beam. “I would be fine with just having coffee on the front doorstep, but I’m afraid that if you don’t let me in soon, we’ll have to contend with people coming up here to ask me for autographs.”

  Even as he said this, Eleanore caught the distant sounds of teenage girls giggling below in the courtyard. She stepped back through her doorway and invited him in. “Say nothing about my state of dress or my lack of furniture and I might let you stay longer than it takes me to down this coffee,” she warned him.

  Daniels stepped past the threshold and into Eleanore’s apartment. She watched him with some trepidation as he glanced around, taking in their surroundings. Ellie’s apartment wasn’t exactly cheap; it was in a better part of town and somewhat gated. Plus, hers was a corner suite with a fireplace, which not all of them had.

  But she never spent much on furniture. It seemed pointless to her to waste money on something she might have to leave behind at any given moment. There was always a chance that the people around her would begin to notice she was different. And then it would be time to pick up and go, so she was always ready.

  She wondered what Daniels, the famous and very wealthy movie star, would think of her minimalist decor. He probably had a mansion.

  “Have a seat in the living room and I’ll go change,” she told him.

  She walked into the kitchen and pulled a mug down from one of her shelves. Then she tried to steady her hands as she poured her coffee from the paper cup he’d handed her into the mug and popped it into the microwave. She took a deep breath and returned to the living room, where he was still standing beside the couch, taking it all in. She brushed nervously past him and made her way down the hall to her bedroom.

  Ellie shut the door behind her and hurriedly pulled off her pajamas. Then she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and quickly ran a brush through her hair.

  When she returned to the living room, it was to find Daniels standing before a pair of plywood shelves she had put together and placed in one corner. One shelf held all of her CDs. The other contained hardback and paperback books.

  He was reading the titles of the books when he glanced up at her entrance.

  His head turned and his gaze instantly pivoted to her once more. Eleanore felt her face and ears grow hot.

  The hint of a smile began to curve Daniels’s lips. “You like Valley of Shadow,” he said, holding up one of her CDs. An image of a cemetery covered the front and in the center of the graveyard stood a single man dressed in black, half of his face hidden by a black mask. “Fan of the Masked One?”

  “Who isn’t?” she replied with a faked shrug of nonchalance. “He has the voice of an angel.” It was probably pathetic, but she was so inexperienced at flirting, she was grateful to have something else to focus his attention on.

  Daniels stared at her intently for a moment and then smiled a slow, enigmatic smile. “You’ll get no argument from me,” he said as he turned and slid the CD back into its slot.

  Ellie watched as the muscles in his back and arms bunched invitingly with every CD he removed and replaced. The schlick-schlick-schlick sound of their shuffle filled the air in the room with a tense kind of static. In that moment, she was struck with the surreal realization that Christopher Daniels, tall and gorgeous and replete with hard-cut muscles, was actually in her apartment and appeared to be honestly interested in what she liked.

  What were the chances?

  She cleared her throat. “I’m going to get my coffee,” she told him. She had backed up a step to head for the kitchen when Daniels stopped what he was doing and turned around to face her.

  The green of his eyes was so piercing and intense in that moment, she nearly gasped. Instead, she lifted her hand, almost protectively, and found her fingers lightly brushing the hollow of her throat. “Your eyes are so green,” she said before she could stop herself. Her blush deepened, inflaming her face. Stupid!

  Christopher’s grin was intensely pleased. “They get that way.”

  She felt like an idiot. With a good amount of effort, she forced herself to pull her gaze from his and focus on his coffee cup. “Does yours need warming up?” she asked. Her eardrums began to hum with the sound of blood rushing through them and her voice sounded hollow.

  He glanced down at the paper cup he’d placed on the coffee table. “No.” He looked back up at her, capturing her eyes with his. “Thank you. I’m good.”

  She nodded and hurriedly spun around. Once she was in the kitchen, she leaned against the refrigerator and tried to catch her breath. Her heart was thrumming wildly in her chest; she could feel it beating frantically at the pulse points in her wrists and temples.

  Good God, what the hell is he doing to me? She rolled her eyes and bit her lip hard. Get a hold of yourself, Ellie, she mentally scolded. He’s just a human being, just like you, just like everyone. He’s just a guy. So calm the hell down!

  A few minutes later, she had gotten herself under enough control that she could face him again. She returned to the living room holding her steaming mug with both hands. Her fingers were fidgeting around the porcelain, but at least it kept them busy.

  “You’re a fan of manga, too,” he said with a nod to the plethora of colorful trade paperbacks on the shelf.

  She smiled nervously. “I’ve taken to reading newspapers backward.”

  “Poe?” He gestured to the black leather-bound tomes.

&n
bsp; “I do love Poe.”

  “And vampires.”

  At this, she froze. Daniels smiled a “got you” smile and turned to gesture to the title of the nearest paperback book. “Slave to a Vampire: An Erotic Compilation of Stories About Vampires and the Brides They Claim,” he read aloud.

  Eleanore’s blush was back and as furious as ever.

  Daniels sat down on her couch and pulled a single magazine from under the picture book on her coffee table. On the cover was a photograph of him as Jonathan Brakes—fangs, glowing eyes, and all.

  Ellie shrugged noncommittally and stubbornly plastered an innocent expression on her face. “I got that magazine for the article on Tim Burton,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Daniels’s brow arched. He glanced down at the cover and searched for Tim Burton’s name. It wasn’t on the cover. She knew that already. He opened it and searched the table of contents. Ellie shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to let her embarrassment show. Burton’s article was on page twenty-three. “I’m surprised you knew it was in here,” Daniels said. “What with all of this eye candy in the way.”

  Eleanore said nothing to that. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee and tried to hide her face behind her mug as she did so.

  On the couch, Daniels opened the magazine up to his own article, which was easy, since the magazine had been opened to that page so often it now did so automatically. Daniels shot her another knowing glance and Ellie felt like sticking her head in a hole. Then he began reading. “Christopher Daniels came out of the closet today when he announced to the world that he has a crush on his costar, Lawrence McNabb, the tall blond actor who plays Daniels’s enemy in Comeuppance.”